


Hilda: She Sees Them, and Smiles.

by Iris_the_Messenger



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Happy Ending, Hilda being a bff, Observations, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip, Romance, Unrequited Crush, Violence, War, Wear's Nameday gift from a dutiful retainer, school days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_the_Messenger/pseuds/Iris_the_Messenger
Summary: She was there at the beginning, she would be with them until the end.A short drabble from Hilda's P.O.V ~ For Wearwind's Nameday <3
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan, Hilda Valentine Goneril & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78
Collections: The Claudeleth Chronicles: As Observed by Friends and Allies.





	Hilda: She Sees Them, and Smiles.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wearwind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearwind/gifts).



> Dedicated to our dear Tavern Keeper and House Leader, Wearwind <3 on their special Nameday!

Despite what she would have others believe, Hilda was fairly studious, though her area of expertise was more in the observation of people than actual schoolwork. 

She would argue it was just as important a subject of study as any other offered at the academy, if not more so. Especially for a noble maiden such as herself, naturally expected to excel in flattery and charm, weaving praise and subtle barbs as skillfully and deftly as the swing of her axe.

She was often accused of sloth for her lackluster, but didn’t even her ploys and charm require some effort?

Words of delegation, with the occasional coy smile to seal the deal, and ta-da! Any stressful tasks she herself had not wanted were handed off to another, a fellow classmate who she’d caught stealing shy glances in her direction more than once. Offering him sincere praise and gratitude, for she was anything but ungrateful for his sacrifice, she bid the poor boy a good day. Leaving her to enjoy her afternoons as she pleased.

Relieved to be free of her burdens, she happily sauntered across the courtyard. It’s quiet for the most part, save for a few students here and there, studying diligently for their upcoming certifications.

Save one.

Sitting alone on a nearby bench, one leg resting easily over his knee to make a makeshift table for whatever book (clearly not one of their approved textbooks) he was absorbed in. Was none other than Claude von Riegan.

He looks up, hearing her call out to him.

Smiling in her direction, he sends her one of his signature winks, and she feels that all too familiar flutter begin in her belly.

Hilda decides she likes Claude.

What’s more, Hilda decides she really likes Claude. The young heir to the Riegan Dukedom was everything her father and brother were looking for in a suitable match for her, status and prestige, but it was his mysterious background, cool looks and fast wit that appealed to her most.

He’s not like other nobles, and she likes that. 

He was definitely a strange one, there was no doubt about that. However, his quirky nature was just another thing that attracted her to the young archer.

So, when paired together on assignments or chores, she uses her time wisely. She flirts and bats her eyes, offering him all the delights of her company.

He flirts back easily enough, but no more than that. He doesn’t even so much as try to kiss her, and she has given him more than ample opportunity.

She’s stupefied at first. Few men, or women, have ever denied her. Honestly, she’s a little miffed at first.

That is, until she sees them together.

Specifically, she sees the way the young man’s verdant gaze lights up with interest as their stoic and steadfast professor comes into view and she knows all hope for his attention is lost.

She may not know all of Claude’s secrets, but she is an avid student of human behavior, and watching her house leader as he happily jumps up from his seat, tailing after their professor, she understands he is of a singular goal. 

Whether his interest is romantically inclined or otherwise, she is unsure at first.

The woman wields a legendary sword and is of great skill. A valuable asset to any aspiring young noble, especially a young duke destined to lead an entire coalition of bickering nobles. He needed every edge and resources he could acquire at such an early age. She easily reads the envy in Dimitri and Edelgard’s eyes as they watch the pair walk together, and she finds she can’t blame them. 

~ * ~

“Professor…please, can we take a break?” She whines, feeling gross as the sweat drips from her brow.

Her instructor merely shakes her head, firm as always as she stood off to the side.

“You can do this, Hilda.” Byleth encourages. It’s not so much the words themselves that get to her, but the tone. 

The woman assigned to their class speaks in such certain tones, with such conviction, that Hilda knew she could not wiggle her way out from under her steely gaze.

Hilda knows no manner of pretty words can sway her; she’s already tried every excuse in the book and the mercenary barely batted an eye at each attempt.

“How about dinner, my treat?” She tries, batting her eyelashes. “I know this really nice place in the village.”

“Pick up the axe, Hilda.”

Releasing a weary breath, she does as she is told. The practice axe is heavy, but not nearly as heavy as one made of steel or iron. She rests the pseudo-weapon against her shoulder, sighing.

“Really, professor…what’s the point of all this? I’ll just hold everyone back, seriously, it would be better if you had me providing logistical support from the sidelines.”

“Because I know you're better than that,” the older woman explains simply. “Your strength and potential on the front lines is invaluable, and there is no one else I’d trust more to cover the physically weaker soldiers, like Marianne and Ignatz, and keep them safe.”

She pauses at that; their teacher does not mince words, she always says what she means. Her bluntness was something that endeared her to those around her, particularly those used to the overuse of flowery words.

It was both refreshing, and sometimes, much like her skill with a blade, deadly accurate.

She frowns softly. “…don’t do that, professor!”

“Do what?”

“That – expect more from me. I couldn’t bear it if I let people down, if someone got hurt because of me…it's too much responsibility for one person, and I for one want nothing to do with it. It’s just not ME, professor.” 

“Hilda.” She says patiently, resting a firm hand on her shoulder. Hilda can’t avoid her eyes, which see into her in a way no one else had before. Is this how Claude felt, when she looked into his own guarded gaze? “I believe you are much more than you would have us all believe. I’ve seen your kindness and devotion to your fellow deer; how you helped Raphael, indulged Lysithea and encourage Marianne. You would never let any harm come to any of them, even if you may say you’d rather stay out of the fighting. If push comes to shove, I believe you to be the first to take the front lines in their defense.”

She flounders, words failing her for a moment as she feels the woman’s words sear through her core. She manages to giggle, her usual mask, smiling and carefree, slipping back into place. “…You’re a strange one, you know that, professor?”

“So I’ve been told.”

The professor, Byleth, smiles and for a moment of clarity Hilda gets it. Can see what Claude sees, and she feels herself relax under her attention.

“Anyways, enough of all that. About that dinner, professor?”

“Hilda…” She sighs, making the pink haired warrior laugh.

  
  


~ * ~

He might actually love her; she realizes, stunned by her own observation, as she watches Claude guide the professor to the dance floor.

Joining Edelgard and Dimitri, the pair are quite the sight and there are whispers among the students, buzzing in Hilda’s ears as everyone watches them sway in each other’s arms.

It's clear Claude is the more skilled of the pair, as he leads their dance, clearly having the formal training befitting his rank. The professor is a quick learner, however, and while she struggles at first, she soon matches his pace with more confidence.

It becomes clear that soon there is no one else around them, as they fall into their own world. Laughing and dancing, she soaks in the image of the two.

Over the last year the changes in them both had become readily apparent to anyone who took careful notice, which she had. It had become something of a hobby for her, watching their once stoic professor come out of her shell as she warmed to them all. Gracing them all with small, soft smiles of affection and indulgence but none of her smiles shined as brightly as when she was with Claude.

Their house leader just seemed to bring something special out of her, something human and real. Her eyes lighting up whenever he was near. She would never show favoritism on purpose; she was too considerate of their feelings, but it was simply different with Claude around, she could tell.

The same could be said of Claude, the clever schemer guarded as he was, seemed to visibly relax around their teacher. His hollow smiles became genuine, reaching his dazzling eyes with renewed life and purpose.

It was a forbidden thing, what was growing between them which of course made it all the more romantic, she mused. Like something from a fairy tale, only Claude was no prince and their professor no helpless damsel. 

Not to mention she doubted the mercenary, despite the many admirers she had gained, would cross that line between student and teacher. Such impropriety would surely send Seteth into a fit.

Whatever they may be, in the here and now, and who knew what they would become in the future, Hilda watches them and smiles. Tonight, at least, it didn’t matter.

Tonight they dance, and she finds herself sincerely happy that they have found one another at this time.

Besides, who knew what the future would hold?

~ * ~

There is fire and blood, the cries of war as the Empire marches on the monastery. The Deer hold the line, strong and united even as they fall back, a far cry from the gangling herd they had started as the beginning of the year.

“Claude! Claude, we have to go!” She cries out, spotting her house leader amidst the rubble and carnage.

He’s long since discarded his bow in favor of a lethal sword, already stained with the blood of slain Empire soldiers. She knows he can hear her, but his eyes remain on the battlefield.

He’s searching for her, she realizes.

Their professor had dashed into the heat of the battle, out of their sight, right after the great, white dragon had appeared in the skies. 

Hours later, and they hadn’t seen her since.

Hilda can hear the surviving students of the Blue Lions House as they attempt to wrangle their own house leader away from the battlefield. The noble prince was a horrific sight, covered in blood and gore, wrestling against Dedue’s thick arms as his childhood friends attempted to reason with him.

“Claude...” She tries again, her voice pleading, trying to reach him.

He finally seems to come out of himself, turning to face her. It breaks her heart, the look in his eyes. Lost, unsure. Their guiding star is missing, possibly dead. Edelgard has won this day. They have no choice but to make a tactical retreat, save the ones they could and try and scramble back to the Alliance.

Edelgard wouldn’t waste the opportunity to use those who survived against their families as hostages in order to gain footing within their territory.

So that’s what they do. In an instant, the fog lifts from Claude’s eyes as he comes to and assesses the situation. He calls them all to him, and they retreat to Abyss where Yuri and the other Ashen Wolves provide shelter and escape through their hidden tunnels beneath church grounds.

Rushing to the secret entrance as a group, nursing their wounds from the battle, Claude stalls suddenly as they pass the professor’s old room. He quickly hands an injured Lysithea off to Raphael, her small frame cradled safely in his strong arms as their leader dashes to her door.

“Claude, there’s no time for your nonsense!” Lorenz scolds, sharing his horse with a wounded Leonie, her leg having been speared through. Her own horse having fallen, felled by a brawler.

Kicking in the wooden door with an urgency she’d never seen before, he disappears into the room, frantic. Hilda waits for him as she urges the rest to continue on, her heart thundering in her chest as she counts the seconds he’s gone.

Almost a full minute passes before he remerges, clutching a worn looking book in his arm. Grabbing her arm, he pulls her along, and she takes gulping breaths as they descend the secret stairs to the hidden darkness below.

Others follow them, including what remains of the Blue Lions, and she is impressed by the preparations the Ashen Wolves have taken in the weeks before the attack.

They guide them through the maze of tunnels, leading them to the ones that will take them closer to Alliance lands, away from the Empire’s notice as they continue their siege. They part ways with the others, sparing few words as haste becomes paramount to their survival.

Claude makes an effort with Dimitri, but the prince is beyond words of solidarity or possible alliances as he mumbles and laughs darkly to himself. Hilda exchanges sympathetic looks with Mercedes and Sylvain before they go their separate ways, not knowing when they would see each other again.

“Thank you for this, Baltie.” She says, taking a moment to grab at the older man’s sleeve before joining her classmates. “We really appreciate it, we’d be goners if not for you guys.”

The grappler shrugs, shaking his head somberly. “Don’t thank me, thank the boss and the professor. They came up with this escape plan for everyone a few weeks ago, before the army made it’s way here to the monastery.”

Hilda’s eyes widened at that, gesturing to the single supply cart they’d been gifted; filled with some food, medicinal herbs and camping gear.“The professor and Yuri planned for this? Claude, did you know?!”

Claude, caught in conversation with the aforementioned house leader for the Ashen Wolves, nods numbly. “Teach said Yuri knew secret tunnels that could lead everyone out into the forests, in the hopes of saving as many students as possible just in case we needed to make a tactical retreat...which, we figured was highly likely as the Empire, Edelgard, had been planning this siege for some time…She didn’t want to cause panic, so we’ve been gathering supplies and resources for everyone’s escape as quietly as possible while everyone else planned for the attack.”

Something twists, tight and painful, in Hilda’s chest at his words.

Their professor had always made their safety her top priority, even now, after she...She shook her head as they made their way through the darkness, with only a few torches at hand, and Raphael pulling at their small cart. No, She couldn’t admit it yet. Didn’t want to face the reality of their professor’s more than likely demise, not now when they still needed to stay alive.

Marianne has her hands full as she heals the wounded when they finally make it out of the tunnels and into the deep woods surrounding Garreg Mach. They make camp, to rest and wallow in their failure and loss.

Claude sits by himself. The blood he wears is not his own, so he dismisses the healer’s touch in favor of those most in need of her skills.

Hilda stares at him from across the small campfire Lorenz has made, pity shining brightly in her eyes as she takes him in. It seems so unnatural to see him now without the professor by his side. They had become a paired set, in and out of the classroom. 

It was almost as if he could feel her loss on a physical level, the discomfort he seemed to project along with the distress and fallout of the battle practically radiating off of him in shimmering waves.

As if he’d lost a part of himself that day.

“She’s not dead…” Is all he says, holding the book close to his chest as he stares into the fire, a determined, yet anxious gleam in his eye.

  
  


~ * ~

The years pass. 

The Empire’s war drags on.

There are whispers. 

There are always whispers, and Hilda made it her business to collect and gather said whispers with the interest of an avid collector. These were perilous times, after all. And every scrap of information was a coveted tool, a double-edged sword that could be of benefit to their cause or be the instrument of their very downfall.

So, she does what she does best. She watches and observes people, the nobles of the Alliance as they scramble to keep their lands and hoard their resources.

She uses her own honed skills of charm and delegation in service to the Alliance, playing the part she was always meant to play, though she never imagined the stakes this high or grave.

Claude’s grandfather, the late Duke Riegan, doesn’t last the year before he succumbs to his illness. Leaving his heir apparent, the mysterious boy no one wanted or knew, to bear the weight of his heavy mantle as the Alliance’s leader during these uncertain times.

Whispers suggest the late duke’s death was no accident, his illness an elaborate plot conspired by his would-be heir. Poison, an easy scapegoat considering the former Golden Deer House leader’s eccentric, and sometimes unsettling, hobby.

But Hilda knows better than that. She knows Claude better than that, or at least she hopes she does. They never became more than friends and allies like she once desired, but they are each other’s closest friend and confidant during this hellish time.

Aside from a few stomach cramps, thanks to a few drops of laxatives in the occasional teapot, Claude had never seriously hurt any of his fellow students.

His verbal threats, idle and teasing, were more a means of throwing his enemies and opponents off their guard than anything else. A means of manipulating their reactions, making it easier to predict their next move.

The war has changed them all, but none more than Claude. Their former house leader wields his charms more skillfully, his clever tricks more artfully and with driven purpose. Survival. One wrong word or move and it was another ally lost and more territory offered up to the Empire.

Things they couldn’t afford to lose to the emperor. Not after all this time, all this struggle.

He cuts his braid before taking his place at the head of the council round table, a sign of his growth and acceptance of his new role.

They were no longer children, playing soldier. They were beginning the harsh initiation into their adult roles.

She and the others stand by his side, solidified in their bonds from the academy. Bonds they had in thanks to the woman who had guided them, taught them, believed in them. Told them they could be more than what they thought fate had pre-planned for them and their futures.

Hilda had never wanted to shoulder such expectations, the risk of failure or disappointment too great a deterrent for her to handle. Better to leave the fighting and responsibilities to others, like her stalwart brother, Claude and Lorenz.

People who cared about the future of the Alliance, who weren’t afraid of the backlash when things fell through and could carry the weight of such a burden.

But it is Byleth, their former professor, and her memory that drives her forward now. The memory of their time together, her unwavering faith and persistence. It is the many friendships she has cultivated; lives she vows to protect at all cost.

Walking the halls of the Riegan estate, she easily finds her way to Claude’s study, and rapping her knuckles against the hard wood waits for an answer.

“Come in!” 

There he sits, behind a large desk of oak, littered high with stacks of letters and maps. He had been expecting her. Though, he had not been able to greet her properly due to the literal mountain of paperwork set before him.

“Hilda, it's always a pleasure to see your lovely face. I had the maids fetch some tea for us, you must be tired after your trip.” He exhales, running his hands through his hair, disheveled and wild. “Rose petal blend, it's still your favorite, right?”

She takes a seat on the comfortable chaise in the study, eyeing him warily. Truthfully, he looked more tired than she felt.

Indeed, he didn’t look like he’d seen a brush or a razor for some time. The war had been dragging them all down for some time, but this past week or so Claude had seemed to be moving in overtime. 

As if he had no time at all.

She and Marianne had been concerned for his health at first, but now she had an inkling he was up to something. Another scheme or ploy? He had worked magic in maintaining the power structure of the roundtable, despite Count Gloucester’s attempts to undermine his authority and leadership, but now there were new whispers that had reached her ears.

Whispers among the staff of their leader’s intent to take a little trip outside of Alliance territory.

Whispers of the ruins of Garreg Mach.

"Claude…" She begins carefully, and he frowns at her voice. He hears her pity. "You’re not still planning on going, are you?"

He is silent for a moment, processing her question. He is a little taken back by it, she can tell, but then after their beloved professor she was the one who knew him best amongst their old friends and classmates.

“Hilda…”

“She’s gone, Claude. You need to let her go, people are…beginning to talk.” It was true, one of many whispers she had come across as of late.

He had played the game well amongst the nobles, keeping them at bay with their many marriage proposals and attempts to seduce him to their favor using whatever sons or daughters were at their disposal.

He’d turned them all away, with a patient smile and his casual charm.

The man was wasting his time on a ghost. The memory of a woman, no matter how amazing she had been in life, was still a memory. One long since buried underneath the mountain of corpses and rubble of their former, fallen alma mater.

It brought rumors of madness; an unhinged mind obsessed with the past. Rumors meant to hinder his leadership, rumors she did her best to control and quell before they got out of hand. Not that he made it easy for her.

She watches as his fingers trail over the worn leather of an all too familiar journal on his desk, well cared for despite the years that had passed.

The one item he could not bear to leave behind, had risked his life for before they had fled into the night with the rest of their class.

"Have you ever known Teach to go back on a promise, Hilda?" He challenges lightly, returning the journal back to its home within his desk. “I figured, as the more devout of the two of us, you would have more faith than that.”

He's so sure. She envies him, no matter how ridiculous it seems. She bites her lip, unable to find the proper words, which is unlike her.

“I believe in her, Hilda. She will come back to us…”

They don’t speak of her, or the future, for the rest of the evening. Instead, she fills dinner with mindless chatter and gossip, much like she had once in the past over tea. The ease and levity bring a genuinely fond smile to the young duke’s face. That is enough for her and helps lull her into a somewhat peaceful sleep as they retire for the night.

He’s gone the next morning, as she knew he would be, leaving a note behind bidding her to follow.

She really hopes he cleaned himself up, at the very least.

It simply wouldn’t do for him to look a mess, if he did reunite with his phantom amour.

~ * ~

This can’t be real, she thinks.

The final bandit falls at her feet, and as she pulls her axe from the man’s neck, she is quick to join the gathering forming around the newly returned professor standing by Claude’s side. Urging her beloved wyvern forward, her mind reeling.

An impossible woman, that’s what Claude had often called her. Hilda, staring in bewilderment beside her former classmates as they once again came face to face with said personification of improbability, could not agree more with his assessment of their former instructor.

A goddess reborn indeed, with hair of seafoam and eyes of sparkling jade. She hadn’t changed, at all. It was as if she had stepped out of the past and into the present, unchanged, looking as she did five years ago the morning the Empire had first declared war and marched on the monastery.

It’s a dream, it has to be.

Standing beside her, wearing a brilliant smile she had not seen in many years, Claude speaks of turning the tides, of plans and preparations she had never fathomed. Had he been planning this all these years? 

After five years of keeping the nobles in line, keeping the Alliance afloat and out of the major conflicts of the war. Conserving their resources and strength, just for this moment? One final push back against the Empire.

Had he really known, this whole time when they all thought him mad with grief for his lost love, holding onto a pointless hope, that she would return to them, to him?

He’d been waiting, preparing all of this for her?

The professor, Byleth, for her part, seems grateful for Claude’s initiative in the conversation and re-introductions. She looked lost, and perhaps tired? Hilda’s mind is racing, her heart pounding as the realization that yes, she really was here with them again hits her full force.

She wants to cry out in relief, to run into her strong arms and hold her tight. She worked so hard, more than she’d ever wanted, for the sake of those closest to her and the Alliance. 

_ Where have you been?! We needed you! I needed you! Claude needed you!  _ She screams in her mind.

The war had taken so much from them already, but here she is, standing before them, in the flesh. Alive and real, and Hilda knows, feels it in her bones, that something has shifted for them, for this war.

She watches them, sees the way Claude’s eyes sear into the woman beside him with such intensity. There is ambition there, but also genuine happiness and relief. She wonders, recalls his insistence at her survival. Had he really never doubted?

_ “I believe in her, Hilda. She will come back to us…” _

He’s so focused on his plans, and the great work to come, but Hilda watches the woman beside him carefully. Noting the shift in the way their former teacher returns his heated gaze with equal determination, and something else that takes her a moment to name.

Claude is no longer the young man she knew, the war had shaped them all over the years. The once gangly archer had grown well into himself over the last five years, and she can see the spark of something behind those tired, jade eyes.

Surprise? Interest? 

Before that night of the ball, Hilda hadn’t been sure what would become of her friend’s crush/obsession, but she stands before the pair now and has a clearer picture of their coming future.

They can win this war, she is sure. 

With Claude and the professor leading the charge, she has no doubt. Just as she has no doubt that now that they had been reunited, nothing, not even this war, would tear them apart again.

And, smiling slyly to herself, if it took her occasional intervention or encouragement she would happily do so.

**Author's Note:**

> Wind: There! It's posted! Expect to see more soon from the others ;)


End file.
